


Winter Night

by carmenta



Series: Change of Times [4]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - Rice
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-08-01
Updated: 1999-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 02:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lots of snow, a small village, two vampires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Night

The moon shone brightly from the night sky, accompanied by the dim light of the stars. The snow glittered in the light like countless diamonds, a sharp contrast to the black silhouettes of the few trees that grew on the meadow. Around dawn it would be cold, even colder than in the nights before; no mortal left his house deliberately now, the danger of getting lost and freezing to death was too great. The chilly air was winter's lethal beauty, the rough winds that made the tumbling snowflakes dance. It was the season of death, the end of the year, the end of life. But spring would come, would see the trees and flowers bloom again.

My mare was making her way through the snow, her breath clearly visible when she snorted. The first horse I had ever bought, she was growing old; I knew that I should have sold her long ago, but I could never bring myself to part with her, my only constant companion during the last decade. She was nothing special, not a high-bred race-horse but a sturdy, tenacious mount that had no problems with steep mountain paths.

I had been riding through the alps for more than four nights already; at this time of the year crossing the mountain range could take three weeks if the weather was bad. The danger of avalanches was omnipresent, and people avoided to use the winding paths in winter. But I was planning to go to Italy, and coming from Strasbourg I had no real choice but take this way. I could have waited until spring, when the mountains would be free of snow again, but that would have delayed me more than I could allow.

A few weeks ago I had heard of the Roman coven again, for the first time in years. I had not tried to get news from them, but when a group of fledglings had suddenly appeared in my territory, their minds full of confusing thoughts, I had become curious. Something important had happened in the Eternal City, and I wanted to know what had been going on, after all it was the place I had called home for three centuries. It had been impossible to find out more from the fledglings, they had scattered soon, and I did not feel like spending my time chasing them if I could as well go to Italy and see for myself what had happened. There lay danger in going there, I was well aware of that, but still I doubted that I was risking a lot if I visited the country again. I knew how the covens operated, and it would be easy finding hiding places they would not discover. During the last years I had learned how to deal with the covens, and had escaped them more than once. If they should hunt me, I would simply hide in a church.

The first time I had entered a house of God, it had been to confirm myself that what I had believed in for more than half of my life was not true, that the Lord would not punish vampires for the blasphemy of entering a sacred place. There was no God, so nobody could strike us dead when we went into a church. I had been scared a little, but curiosity had won over the reluctant feelings finally. Seeing what really lay within the holy buildings was something I had always wanted to do; I remembered only two churches from my mortal days, one a small chapel, the other the church of the town where I had grown up. How magnificent churches were now, compared to the past! Architecture had done wonders, and the decorations, the murals... beauty beyond imagination. I had become fascinated by churches, traveled only to see them. Westminster Abbey, Notre Dame, Santa Maria degli Angeli were only a few of the buildings I had marveled at during the last few years.

I enjoyed my new life; had I known before what would happen to me if I left the coven, I would have gone long before. The sudden freedom was frightening at first, but as soon as I had learned to pretend to be mortal, everything was possible. There were no more barriers, no laws that kept me from doing what I pleased. Often I wondered why I had not realized this earlier; there was but one way to truly live, and I had finally discovered the secret. That I had become a rogue did not bother me, their way of life was much better than what I had known before. When I thought of the splendid buildings I had ordered to be burned as a coven leader, it made me weep.

There were a lot of things I regretted, some had always seemed deplorable, some distressed me only now that I knew another perspective. The hunting down of rogues was something I absolutely despised now, while it had only annoyed me a little back in the coven. In the past I had not been able to imagine what it meant to be chased by a bloodthirsty mob; if I had known that feeling, I would not have ordered so many attacks against Children of the Millennia. How many lives had been destroyed through this? But there lay no use in drowning in guilt; what had happened could not be undone, all I could do was ask the forgiveness of those who had survived, and remember those who had not.

Whenever I pursued this line of thought, I inevitably remembered Amadeo, who had been drawn into the life from which I had fled. He had not been given the choice, it had been either dying or joining the coven, and it was clear from the beginning what he would decide to do. Nobody that young went into the flames deliberately. Now Amadeo was trapped in the nightmare from which I had woken, and I could not say if he would be able to survive it. I certainly hoped so, I did not want anybody else to die because of me. Not again, not if it was not my survival that was at stake. No more deaths out of conviction. Sometimes I thought of going to Paris, to ask him if he wanted to leave his coven and come with me; but it never seemed the right time to do that, and it would have been dangerous for me to come that close to a coven. Maybe I was egoistic, but I treasured my life, and though being in the company of somebody I had known before would have made it more enjoyable, I still did not want to risk everything in the attempt. Loneliness was better than death, and there were so many others of our kind to meet, to talk to. Never before had I imagined how fascinating it could be to talk to an ancient one who had been alive already when the Roman emperors had still ruled the world.

I never told them who I was, and they never asked. There was a kind of anonymity among the rogues that I had learned to appreciate; nobody questioned the past of others, not even names were important. All that mattered was that you behaved yourself, that you were polite and did not threaten your guest, your host, your companion. I supposed that some knew who I was, especially the old ones; I was always shielding my mind as well as possible, but their mental abilities were amazing. Though if they knew, they never mentioned it, as if my past was something that could be forgotten.

My mare stumbled in the deep snow, ripping me from my musings. She was tired and needed to rest; I could already see the dark outline of a village against the sky; when I arrived there, I would see to it that the horse spent the day in a warm stable and was well fed while I slept in the church as usual. Crypts and old family tombs were the preferred resting places of rogues, they were safe from mortals, who did not dare to remove the stone plates that covered the remnants of their ancestors. No coven vampire dared enter a church, they believed that God would strike them dead if they dared. It seemed ridiculous to me now, but I had been wary too the first time I had crossed the threshold of a church.

The village was smaller than I had expected; a few travelers I had met yesterday night had told me that there were more than a hundred inhabitants. It did not matter, though; I was not planning to stay here for longer than maybe two nights, certainly I could find victims without rousing rumors of a plague or a ghost haunting the place.

I reached a square with a small pond in the midst; the village green, I assumed. Most of the houses were arranged around it; nearly all of them were farms. It would not be difficult to find a place for the horse; as long as I paid well, nobody asked questions. In one of the stables I saw a light shine through the small ventilation openings, a lantern perhaps. Dismounting, I led my mare to the door and knocked. From inside I heard rustling, somebody was moving in the straw. Maybe I had interrupted the peasant and one of the farmgirls, that would not be unusual at this time of the night. When the door was opened by a young woman with tousled hair full of straw and disheveled clothes, I found my assumption confirmed. The farmer himself was probably on the way back into the house, to the bed he shared with his wife, and had not dared open the door himself, fearing that his nightly activities might be discovered.

"What do you want?" the woman asked, one hand clutching the handle of a small lantern, the other holding her dress together over her breasts. Yes, I had definitely disturbed something here. Judging the expression on her face, she did not mind at all; I had found that the maids hardly ever slept with the farmers voluntarily but that they were forced to agree most of the time.

"I need a place for my mare," I answered. "I will pay whatever you want, and expect that she is fed and treated well." The woman seemed unsure and was about to close the door again when I reached into my coat and produced a few coins. "Only two nights."

The woman opened the door further, and an atrocious stench came from inside, typical cowshed smell. I backed away a step unconsciously; the heightened senses of a vampire, though useful most of the time, could sometimes be too intense. She eyed the money in my hand, then nodded slowly.

"There is place for the horse, and you can sleep in the barn."

"I only need a place for the horse." I handed the reins to the woman. "Remember, I want her to be fed well, I need her to be rested." The woman extended her hand expectantly, and I gave her one of the coins. "The rest you will get when I return to fetch the mare." She was about to protest, but I silenced her with a look. Dawn was not far, and the last thing I needed now was a bargaining farmgirl.

When she had led the horse into the cowshed finally, I left in the direction of the small chapel and was soon walking through the graveyard. Simple wooden crosses marked the graves, no fancy marble tombstones anywhere. The ground was covered with snow and ice, it would be impossible to dig a hole here. No, resting in one of the graves was not an option tonight.

Inside the chapel no candles were burning except the Eternal Flame, which cast a dim light at the surrounding walls. A simple place, decorated with crude murals and a few wooden statues. A small altar with a crucifix and two candles dominated the room. I smelled dust, and when I looked closely at the statues, I could see the cobwebs on their faces and hands. Apparently the vicar did not take his duty too seriously.

Soon I had found what I had been looking for, the stone plate that covered the entrance to the small crypt. Lifting it was not easy, but I managed and walked down the few steps to see if I could spend my daytime rest here. It seemed as good a place as anywhere else; two moldering coffins, the usual smell of death and decay. I could feel the sunrise coming; shutting the entrance again, I lay down in the middle of the floor, closed my eyes and hoped that the rats would not bite holes into my clothes during the day.

***

The next evening I awoke with the usual hunger; and after scanning the chapel above me for mortals and finding it empty, I was about to leave my resting place when suddenly a noise startled me. I turned around quickly, searching for the cause, but I could not find anything. Maybe my nerves were playing tricks on me, the journey had been exhausting. There, again! A familiar sound, but that could not possibly be. It was coming from one of the coffins. A heartbeat.

Cautiously I approached the wooden box, prepared to jump back at any moment. I should probably leave the crypt and run, but my curiosity was urging me to see who, or what, was hiding there. Slowly I reached for the lid, threw it open with one swift movement. And stepped back quickly when I saw a human body lying in the coffin.

Great. I had shared my daytime place with another vampire without knowing it. Not something I could be proud of. I should have checked my hiding place, should not have assumed that there would not be another vampire just because it seemed impossible to cross another's path without knowing. Absolutely fabulous. I had been too careless, the next time I rested somewhere I had to make sure that I was alone.

At least the other one appeared to be weaker than me, or he would not be asleep still. I had a closer look at him; a handsome man, he had lived maybe thirty years before he had been given the blood. His tousled brown hair was full of dust and dirt from the coffin he was resting in, and his clothes had seen better times. There was still a hint of a blush on his cheeks, and his skin was not white as mine, but had a slight tan. A fledgling, no more than twenty, thirty years old, I assumed.

Maybe he had come from Rome, it was possible that he had left the coven and was crossing the Alps too, as I was, only in the opposite direction. I had heard that a lot of the young ones traveled to Paris and asked to be accepted into Amadeo's coven when their own groups had been disbanded. I did not care about this, it was their life they spend worshipping lost beliefs, if this was what they wanted, I would not keep them from trying to convert them to my lifestyle. They had to find out themselves, I did not want to end burned by a coven for being a blasphemer and a tempter of the young and weak to join me in my life of treason and paganism.

The fledgling in the coffin would not wake for some time, I could probably hunt without having to fear that he would leave in the meantime. I wanted to talk to him, to hear if he had any news of the events in Italy. He did not represent a threat to me, there was nothing to fear. He was alone, and would hardly be so foolish to attack me. And if he did, he would regret it, I was certainly the stronger of us.

I left the crypt after scanning the chapel and confirming that there was no mortal inside the room who could think that there was a ghost rising from his grave. The village was quiet, only behind a few windows there was still light. The people were probably sleeping already, they were awake only as long as their world was illuminated by the sun, and left the night to creatures like me.

Hunting in such small communities was dangerous, but I badly needed to feed; the journey and the cold were exhausting me, and I had not hunted for a few nights because I had never been able to find a suitable victim. Walking silently through the deserted streets, I scanned the minds of the people inside the houses I passed, and finally found what I was looking for.

The door of the house was bolted, but that presented hardly a problem to me. Death could not be locked out of anywhere. I could move things with my mind without a big effort, and sliding a bolt aside was not difficult. Within seconds the door swung open, allowing me to enter the dark main room of the house. Looking around, I saw that this was hardly a house but a shack; no proper furniture in the small room, and no lingering smell of smoke from the hearth. There had not been a fire tonight to warm the house, I could not see any firewood. Like a ghost I crossed the room and reached another door, this one not closed completely. Peering through the small crack, I saw that it led to a small chamber with a bed inside, in which two mortals were sleeping. Both were old, husband and wife, I assumed.

When I entered the room I smelled sickness. The man was tossing his head restlessly on the small pillow, he radiated the stench of vomit and sweat. His breath was rattling, he sounded as if he were suffocating slowly, and probably was. Pneumonia or some other lung disease which the chill of the winter had caused and which would kill the man after some more time. Preying upon the sick was not something I liked to do, but tonight I had hardly a choice but take what I could find.

The old man shivered in my arms when I scooped him up and carried him back into the main room. I did not want to feed here, where his wife might wake and see me; and I wanted to spare her the shock of waking up next to a corpse in the morning. I closed the door behind me and sank my fangs into the neck of my victim.

He died quickly, had hardly had any strength left. The sickness would have claimed him within the next few days, maybe he would not have even lived through this night. The images I saw in his mind were nothing extraordinary, moments of a hard life as a peasant. A fire, his farm was burning. Two young men, his sons maybe, left with what looked like finality. He had been living in this hut since then, with his wife at his side. I felt the freezing nights they had spent here, unable to gather enough wood to light a fire in the hearth every day. He had always considered death to be a mercy.

I bit my tongue and let the blood trickle onto the bite marks, then laid the corpse down on the floor, closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his chest. Warmth was coursing through my veins, his blood had given me the heat he had missed. Silently I left the house, bolting the door again once I was standing outside.

From the smell of the air it would begin to snow soon, I should leave here soon if I wanted to reach the next village or farm before dawn. But first I wanted to talk to this fledgling, wanted to hear what he knew. He seemed somehow familiar, but I could not remember where I might have seen him before.

Before I returned to the chapel I went to the place where I had left my horse yesterday night. This time there was no light in the cowshed, apparently the peasant had thought it safer not to visit his mistress again so soon after nearly being discovered. I reached for the handle of the wooden door, and entered the shack, trying not to think too hard about the horrible smell. Inside I saw maybe fifteen cows lying in the straw, all but a few calves tied to iron hooks in the wall.

My mare snorted when she sensed me, and came to her feet immediately. I always had the impression that she was happy to see me, maybe because of the apples and bits of bread I kept collecting for her. When I went to taverns to find out about the best routes for my journeys and had to pretend to eat something, I would let the food disappear in my coat and give it to the mare later if it was suitable for her. I had found that she liked apples and bread with honey, and it was nice to see her munching the food and then systematically searching my pockets for more with her snout.

Tonight I had only a few wrinkled pears for her which I had picked up two nights ago, and she seemed positively disappointed when she could not find anything else in my coat. I patted her neck and took the bridle from a hook in the wall. She let me saddle her without protest and did not resist when I led her out of the cowshed into the cold night air; she was used to being awake at this time of the night after all. I was thinking of leaving right now, but talking to the other vampire had priority.

I returned to the church, my mare following me though I did not hold the reins in my hand. Maybe I was smelling of apples, or she was hoping that I would take her somewhere warm again. At the chapel portal I was about to tie her to one of the pillars that supported the small roof over the entry, but then remembered the condition of the church, the dirt, the dust, the cobwebs, and led her inside. She gave a low snort and went straight for the basin that contained the Holy Water. It must have been refilled only a few hours ago, there was no ice in it yet. I did not prevent her from drinking it, if she was thirsty it made no difference if the water had been blessed or not. From what I had seen so far of the work the vicar did in this chapel, I doubted that this water was more blessed than the snow outside.

When I went down the steps to the crypt, the fledgling was just beginning to stir; it would take a few more minutes for him to fully awake. I sat down on the stair and waited. He would probably be more than just a little shocked to see another vampire here.

I wondered if he was a member of a coven sent as a messenger, or if he was the fledgling of a rogue who had left his maker or had been left. Vampires so young rarely traveled alone, most of the time they would seek an older companion and the protection this offered until they were able to live on their own. The very old ones were known to rarely create others anymore, it seemed they were tired of setting more fledglings into the world. Legends of them were told, of Mael haunting the Scottish highlands, of a red-haired female vampire in Persia and Asia Minor. It was also said that Marius was still alive, that he was residing somewhere in the Loire valley, or in Marocco. I had only met one of the true Children of the Millennia, who had really seen more than a thousand years, and she had not at all been what I had expected. I had thought that one so old had to be wise, and calm, but had found out that characters hardly seemed to change. She had acted like any vampire I had ever met, the only difference was that her skin was more like marble, and that she sometimes spoke of events that had happened centuries ago as if they had taken place only yesterday. It certainly took a great strength to live that long, but it was possible. The oldest vampires I had heard of were said to have seen four thousand years; only a handful of them were still alive, but maybe one of them knew how we had come to existence.

That question had never interested me much, what use lay in knowing where we had come from? What mattered was that we existed, not what had happened to cause this existence. Of course there were myths; mortals had their tales of Adam and Eve, of the Creation. Vampires, especially those who lived in Egypt or whose makers originated there, often claimed that we all were the offspring of Osiris and Isis, and that they had been the first of our kind. I listened to the tales with the same patience and amusement I showed towards tales of village people telling me of ghosts in the mountains, and that praying to God would keep me safe on my journey.

If I had learned one thing in my life, it was that there was no God ruling over my life, that I was the one who was responsible and to blame for all decisions. Losing faith in religion and the old beliefs had been something I had been struggling against for some time. But when I finally had given up and faced the fact that if there was a God he did not care at all about what I did, life had become a lot more interesting.

The young vampire opened his eyes, looked around, saw me and screamed.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, I had not expected that I would provoke such a reaction. He scrambled out of the moldering coffin, sent it breaking into pieces, and backed up against the wall. This was really strange, he acted as if I was about to kill him. Had I made any hostile movements? But I had only been sitting here... maybe that young one had gone mad. I approved of a certain amount of paranoia, it helped to stay safe most of the time, but this was quite an exaggeration.

"Calm yourself, I mean you no harm," I said as friendly as I could. "There is no need to be afraid." The other's eyes widened, and he went pale, making me fear that he would faint.  
"Get thee behind me, demon," he hissed, making the sign of the cross hastily. I was not sure if I should be offended by this behavior, being called a demon was something I did not exactly like. "Henceforth to where thou cam'st from."  
"Could you stop this please?" I asked, trying hard not to show how much this was irritating me. Again he crossed himself, then made a few complicated gestures with his hand that probably meant to vent off the evil eye. What did he think I was, a demon sent from Hell?

"Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name..." This was beginning to annoy me. I only wanted to talk to him, not tempt him into signing a pact that granted me his soul. "Thy will be done on earth as..." I sighed deeply; I had not thought that I would come across religious fanatism again that soon. "...but deliver us from evil. Amen." Before he could launch into another prayer, I went over to him and slapped him. He stared at me, and again made the sign of the cross.

"Will you stop this now? I am no more a demon than you are, so stop this foolish behavior. Who are you?" He did not answer, which made me sigh again. "My name is Santino." Nothing could have prepared me for his reaction.

He shrieked in terror and threw himself to the floor, curling up in a corner. I could see that he was trembling, his whole body was shaking.  
"Please, what have I done that you haunt me now? I would have come to your aid, but I was so frightened! Please, do not punish me now, don't kill me like the others!"

I was beginning to think that I was only dreaming this all, it was too weird to be true. There I was, standing in the middle of a small, dirty crypt, scaring another vampire to death without knowing how I was doing it. He accused me of killing others, but whom should I have put to death? And what would he have helped me with? I was greatly annoyed and irritated by him, but also intrigued.

"I will not kill you, not if you answer my questions." I did not like to use this method, but else I would not get anything sensible out of him. Desperate times, desperate measures. He turned his head to look at me, and I could see that his eyes were rimmed with red tears.

"Everything you want, but please do not harm me!"

"We will start at the beginning. Who are you, and where are you from?" I felt like back at the coven, questioning a confused messenger.

"Marco; I have come from Rome." So I had been right about his background; it would also explain why mentioning my name sent him into hysterics.

"Very well, Marco. Why do you think I would want to kill you?" I would have preferred asking him easier questions at first, to show him that he had nothing to fear from me, but if I wanted to leave this village tonight, I had to be a little more direct.

"Because you killed all the others too."

"Who were they? And why did I kill them?" I felt ridiculous asking those questions.

"The coven, all of them. You killed them because they made you go into the fire, and nobody helped you when you struggled to escape it." Suppressing a triumphant smile was difficult; they still did not know what had happened the night I had escaped. It was satisfying to know that I had succeeded in creating a mysterious disappearance.

"Look at me, I am not a ghost, I am flesh and blood. I have a body, just like you." He looked at me, clearly puzzled; I probably could convince him that I was not a demon coming to haunt him, but the question was if that was what I wanted to do. He could go back to the coven and tell them that I was alive, then they would hunt me down.

"But I saw you die, I heard your screams..."

"I do not want to explain how I escaped the fire, there are things you would not understand." Like deliberately leaving the coven, I added for myself. "Why are you here and not with the coven in Rome? Are you a messenger?"

"Master," I wondered what made him use that title to address me, "there is no more coven."

Now this was surprising; I had not thought that it would happen that fast. That Isabella would not be able to control the whole group forever was something I had been aware of, but I had never cared about it. She had decided that she wanted to rule, so I had let her take my place and had left without putting up a fight. No more coven... it hurt to hear that, though the covens were enemies now. But the Roman flock had been the group I had belonged to for so long, it was painful to hear that they had ceased to exist.

"What happened to them?"

"After you died..." he smiled a little. "After you disappeared, Isabella took the Black Hood. She did not rule very well, she tried to change everything. There was a rebellion, and she was killed." Dear Isabella, your eagerness has been your downfall, it seems. I wish you had listened to me, I have warned you that this could happen easily. That she was dead made me sad, I had not necessarily liked her, but she had been my assistant, and my student. In a way, I had probably loved her.

"How did she die?"

"Her lover beheaded her and then threw the body into the flames."

"Jacques..." I murmured under my breath. "Has he paid for this?" If he had not, I silently vowed that I would see to it personally.

"He was put to death only a few weeks later, Roberto forced him into the fire." I could not recall who Roberto had been, certainly a member of the coven, but I had not known the names of all of them. "And after this..." I raised my hand, and Marco went silent immediately.

"Let me guess. Somebody killed Roberto and took over, and was executed himself. His murderer proclaimed himself the new leader, and so on."

"Exactly." Again he smiled, and I could see that he was beginning to ease up slowly. "There were many rulers during the last decade, not one of them lasted longer than a year. The coven became smaller and smaller, many fled to join other groups. A few weeks ago the last Master was killed, and nobody wanted to stay there any longer."

It bothered me to hear of this, I had devoted my life to creating and strengthening the coven, and to see it destroyed now was not pleasant. So much time and energy I had put into it, only to see it destroy itself. I had always believed my rules, my structures to be effective, but now I saw that I had been the stabilizing force, without me it had all crumbled to dust.

"Why did you not leave sooner?"

"My creator... he stayed there until the end, he said he would rather die than leave Rome. I did not want to go without him." So Marco had been close to his maker, a rare occurrence in a coven. "He died in the power struggles a month ago."

"I am sorry to hear that. What will you do now?"

"Go to another coven, I think. I feel lonely, and I do not want to become a rogue." He quickly scanned my face for any signs that the last comment had offended me. I smiled a little, trying to show him that I was not insulted by this.

"Life as a rogue is different than living in a group. You decide for yourself, and you have nobody else to think of. There is the constant danger of being caught by one of the covens, of course, but most of us take that risk in order to be able to live as they..." I stopped, not sure myself what I was trying to do here. I was not looking for a companion right now, and if I wanted company, there were others who would welcome me whenever I chose to return to them. I did not need to patronize a lost fledgling. Maybe his story was sad, but there was no reason for me to try to convert him to become a rogue; it was dangerous for the young ones to live this life, he would be better off in a coven.

"May I ask you a question?" Marco inquired shyly.

"Of course. I cannot promise that I will answer, though." I smiled encouragingly, it was good to see that he was no longer completely frightened by me. It made the conversation a lot easier.

"Why did you leave?" I laughed, and noticing the confused expression on his face, tried to explain.

"This is what I have been asking myself since I went away from Rome. There were lots of reasons, neither of them alone would have made me go. But combined they made life outside the coven look a lot more attractive than staying. Being there for so long has made me weary of the life in the coven."

"My maker said they would have killed you if you had stayed."

"He was right, I think. You know the Laws and the guidelines, no? All the old ones go mad, and there is hardly any sane vampire older than two hundred years. I was three hundred and fifty by the time I left, if anybody had wanted to overthrow me, all he would have had to do was claiming me to have finally gone mad." I tried not to think too long of it that Isabella had threatened to do exactly this when she had declared her plans for the first time.

"I did not know that you are so old." The unconcealed admiration in his voice made me smile.

"Compared to some of the others, I am a mere fledgling. I know of vampires who have seen four thousand years, and I have met one who has lived since the age of the Roman Empire." And who could be as childish as a mortal youth, I added silently.

Marco was enthralled by the idea of vampires that old, it amazed me that he had not known of the legends of the Children of the Millennia before. There had always been tales of Eric, of an Egyptian vampire named Ramses, and of several others. I had never believed them to be true until I had met one of the living legends.

"If I choose not to join a coven, could I meet them too?"

"It depends on them, if they want to spend their time with you." I could see that he was a little disappointed. "But usually they welcome others into their homes, as long as you can make it clear that you stand in no connection with the Children of Darkness." I could remember a few times when introducing myself had made the other try to kill me, but by now word had spread among them that I had really abandoned my former life and had nothing to do with the covens anymore. Refraining from telling my name if I was not asked had also helped to keep me a little safer.

Marco looked at me in silence, probably trying to think about this possibility to live that he had not really realized before. To me he did not seem fit for the life outside the covens, away from all the rules and guidelines; he was young and still dependent on having a mentor. He would not survive if he was on his own, unable to fend off attacks. Too weak. I could have killed him in an instant if I had wanted to, and there were a lot of others out there who matched my strength or were more powerful. No, alone he would be dead within a year if he did not refine his territory to a distant mountain area.

I studied him intently for the first time, saw that he was one of those who had been chosen to be worthy of the Dark Gift because of their beauty and not necessarily because of their wits. Only those who are beautiful may be given the Dark Gift, so that the insult to God is greater. How hollow that phrase sounded to me now, and how important it had once been. I shoved the thought back, I did not want to dwell on the past right now. There were other things that mattered.

From the chapel room above I could hear my mare snort, her hooves clapping on the stone floor as she moved. I would have to leave soon, there was not a lot of time to lose anymore. There was not much use in still going to Rome, but I would travel there anyway. Now that the coven was gone, I could move more freely there, without having to fear an ambush at every corner. To see the city again was something I had always wanted to do since I had left, to look at it from this new perspective that was so completely different from the position I had held before.

"I am afraid of being alone," Marco said suddenly. "There is so much I still have to learn." He looked at me, a glitter of hope in his eyes. "Can you teach me? Can you show me how to live as a rogue?" Hearing that word coming from his lips made me shiver. There was too much admiration in it, too much fascination. He had probably got a wrong impression of what it meant to live like I did, thought it romantic to be hunted, to have to constantly be alert. Young fool, what did he think this life was like?

"I could. But I will not." He sank back, disappointed.

"But why not?"

"Because I do not want to have an apprentice. I am content with my life the way it is right now, and I do not suddenly want to have company. You are too young, go and join a coven, there you can survive." He shook his head.

"I cannot understand you. If you let me go with you, I will not join the coven, your enemies."

"They are not my enemies. They are merely convinced that I, and others like me, have no right to live. That does not make them my enemies. What they object to is the way I live, not who I am." I looked at him, trying to sound not too hard. "I am not willing to share my life with a stranger, only because you had the idea that it would be interesting to travel with me. I have never had an intention to become the mentor of a young one, and I will certainly not start now."

"But..."

"I have said no. What part of it did you not understand?" With those words I turned around and left the crypt without looking back. One step, two, three.

"Please! I promise that I will not be a burden!"

"That does not matter, I do not want to have a constant admirer." Four, five, six.

"You just leave me alone? What if I die?"

"That is your problem, not mine." Seven, eight.

"How can you be that cruel? I am alone, I am frightened!"

"Aren't we all afraid of something? Deal with your solitude, or go search the security a coven offers." Nine, ten, eleven. The end of the stairs.

I saw my mare come towards me and patted my pockets automatically, finding a carrot that had been part of a thin soup three days ago. It looked a little strange, so yellow and crumpled, not properly orange as carrots were supposed to be, as far as I could recall. Nevertheless the horse snorted excitedly and had swallowed it instantly, then went on examining my coat for more.

Reaching for the reins, I led her outside and mounted. I expected to see a pleading Marco appear in the church portal, but nothing happened. He was probably sitting down there in the crypt thinking how mean and cruel I had been to him. What did I care about what a fledgling thought of me. Patting the neck of my mare, I left the village behind, left a young vampire behind who had asked for my guidance and help. I should probably feel guilty, but I did not. Not really. Of course I felt a little sorry for him, he had had a hard life so far, but that did not imply that I had to patronize him. He would learn to live on his own in time, or die. It was as simple as that.


End file.
